A/N: What happened to all the nice reviews? Aa *shrug*, anyway this is the new chapter hope you enjoy!

Just a bit of senseless rambling: Can anyone (anyone that is for some reason reading this) believe that this story was originally supposed to be a lemon? Yeah, that's right. That was all of -what?- nine months ago, when I first came up with this fic. I changed nearly everything, except the main conflict. I am, however, considering into making this a full or semi-lime, but seeing as to how this is my first time doing something of this sort, I'm a little sceptic . . . What do ya think?

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Chapter 4: Quickstep

'It's not at all how I expected it to be', was the first thought that crossed my mind as Tomoyo's Sedan pulled in front of her apartment building. I was thinking more along the lines of an expensive, posh-looking building in the rich section of this city; those were built especially for celebrities and the elite. Instead, we stopped at an ordinary-looking five-storey apartment building, a couple of blocks from my own.

"Come on, let's get inside before we freeze out butts in this cold," she said when they stepped out into the cold air.

"Yes, ma'am!" I exclaimed and mock saluted before following suit. I was beginning to have fun. It's not every day that you see a celebrity cuss and generally act like a normal person.

I was feeling surprisingly giddy and my libido was in overdrive mode. Here you have this femme fatale, whom I've met a couple of days ago and knew very little about, inviting me into her apartment without a thought. Now, I have to admit, I am rather handsome. Believe me, that's not narcissism talking. I can barely breathe at school without having a girl or two swoon and drop to my feet. It still is rather flattering to have someone like her – who, I must admit, is a looker – invite me over, even though I know it's for business purposes.

"So, what does your place look like?" I ask, intending to bring down the blush-o-meter.

"Why don't you wait and see?" she replied before opening the door. She then continues in automaton voice, "Welcome to the 'Daidouji Abode'. In front of you is the small but humble foyer, which leads straight to the living room, where television and sitting arrangements are available for your pleasure. Off to the right of the living room, you can find the kitchen, where the hostess would be glad to make you something edible. And beyond that are the sleeping accommodations – accessible by invite only – and where the hostess also excuses herself in order to change. If you excuse me, I'll be back before you can blink. In the meantime, make yourself at home."

I laughed; she was a comedian, too? Surprise, surprise. Making my way over to the couch, taking off my coat while doing so. I grinned and called out, "I blinked, thrice. Why aren't you back yet?"

She stuck her head out of one of the doorways, from what I assumed was her bedroom. "That's what some people call 'sarcasm'."

I smirked again then took a look around the apartment. It wasn't anything fancy, surprisingly enough. It was rather quaint, actually. The walls were a pale sienna with many dark-framed picture handing on them. The eastern wall opened to a picturesque window, below which was a love seat. Decorational plants dominated the corners. It was the epitome of modern elegance and homeliness combined; it reminded me of my own apartment.

I took a picture frame from the coffee table in front of me, inspecting it closely. It was a picture of two young girls, one of whom I identified as Tomoyo. They had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, hands proclaiming peace. I took a look at another photograph, this time of an older Tomoyo by herself. The next one of her holding a trophy-type statuette. After inspecting half a dozen of similar pictures, I discovered a flaw.

"Hey," I called out to Tomoyo.

A "hmm?" was followed by the rusting of clothes and I blinked at a sudden mental picture that struck.

"There are many pictures here. How come there are none of your boyfriend?"

"My boyfriend?" She asked walking in simple jeans and a tight, Dead or Alive t-shirt – completely not what I expected her to wear. "What kind of boyfriend to you mean, mon cherie? The boy who just so happens to be a friend, or the friend that became more than that?"

I felt my face flush when I realized that I was staring. The shirt clung to her, accentuating her curves and slender form. A naughty comment about her choice of clothes came to mind, but what came out was: "The latter."

"I haven't had a boyfriend since kindergarten, and that was only because he thought that a kiss on the cheek meant marriage," she answered jokingly.

I was shocked, to say the least. She was pretty – beautiful, in fact – , rich and famous, what kind of moron wouldn't want her? She had everything; she was perfect. This matter suddenly seemed very interesting to me.

"I'll go make us some tea. If you like biscuits you can help yourself with the ones on the coffee table." I nodded and watched her wander into the small kitchen.

"What about the former?" I called out after a minute, shifting on the couch.

"What? Male friends? I have some, though I wouldn't consider any of them close. Just friendly acquittances, you know? I guess I just don't have the time for much socializing with dance; I have a lot of performances during this time of the year."

I understood what she meant, even if subconsciously. I, too, don't have that many friends, just someone who I could exchange "hello"s and "long time no see"s with. I am too afraid to get close to people, too afraid to let them truly see me as I am. Maybe because I can't find someone with similar interests as I. Or maybe that's because if I get too close to someone they will hurt me in one way or another. And then there would be the heartache and the misery-filled days and I would feel too pathetic to exist. I had some unpleasant cases of this, and I do not wish to repeat the experience.

"Careful; it's hot," came Tomoyo's voice right next to my ear and I nearly jumped at the warm breath tickling my neck.

She giggled at my reaction and placed both cups of jasmine tea on the coffee table. "Sorry, you were so immersed in contemplation I thought it would be amusing to wake you up."

Settling on the couch next to me, legs folded underneath her, she said, "We better start with the interview, I have already delayed you enough."

"Right," I replied, taking out my handy-dandy notebook once more. "So, tell me, what inspired you to dance?"

Tomoyo looked thoughtful for a long moment, taking delicate sips of her now warm tea. "Well," she began and I edged closer to her in order to hear her better, or at least that's what I told myself, "when I was young, I can barely remember it now, I went to see a ballet. My father was still with mom and me then and we lived in Tomoeda." She laughed dryly, a faraway look in her eyes. "I remember how my mom was nearly bludgeoning me to wear that frilly dress she bought, and I was stomping my feet and saying that I looked like a girl."

"Care to elaborate on that?" I asked, eyebrow quirked, ceasing the movement of my pen to listen. Her life seemed very interesting to me, even though I've heard so little of it, and I was suddenly longing to know more about her.

She laughed, placing the cup on the coffee table before she could spill any. "If you really want to know. When I was little, I always had to wear overly girlie dress and have ribbons in my hair. One day, I got so tired of everyone calling me "such a pretty little girl" I cut off my hair with the gardening shears. Oh, you should have seen the look on my mother's face! I swear, she looked like an anthropomorphized fish, with the gaping mouth and all! My father just laughed called me his cute little boy instead."

I laughed and shook my head. "I would give my cat and a week's worth of food to see that!"

She laughed along with me before saying, "You should smile more often, it makes you look really gorgeous."

My eyes widened at her proclamation and I felt my cheeks flush once again. Why am I having such a reaction to someone I barely met? Her especially? I don't even like her. Fighting with my own indecisive mind, I continued with the interview. "What happened after you stomping your feet?"

"The three of us went to the opera house – that's where the ballet, Swan Lake, was performed. Oh, it was one of the best times of my life. I felt like I belonged to real family. You see, my mother parents were often too busy to spend time with me, and I was feeling like an outsider in my own household. Doing something so family-like with my parents was truly . . . Oh, great! I can't even express how momentous that was!"

"It's all right; I know what you mean."

"Anyway, the performance left me at the edge of my seat the entire time. I felt like I was the Princess, mourning the loss of her Prince, especially during the last act. It was as if a bolt of something struck through me, and then I knew, that I wanted to do that. I wanted to be the one on stage – anywhere, for that matter, as long as I was dancing. To live and breath it is something I can't even describe to you; the joy I feel when I'm up there, moving to the beat of the music. It's my passion, my life."

I jotted down the last line and looked up at her. Her eyes were glossy, sparkling almost; if I didn't know any better, I would have sworn she was crying. I shook my mind back to the present and the information written before me. "Right then. Can you tell me, what obstacles do you face? It mustn't have been easy to do this all by yourself."

"You're right, it's not easy," she said, looking morose again. All of a sudden I decided that I very much did not like this look on her face; I would rather see her happy and smiling. "First, father left. At that time, mother was even more un-mom-like. She had withdrawn into herself, became cold and distant. It truly pained me to see her like that. In a way, I'm happy that she passed away; she doesn't have to suffer any more." She paused for a deep breath and looked up to me. "After mom . . . left . . . I didn't know what to do, where to go after our life savings had been all used up. I still had to attend school and I had dance lessons to think about, that toppled off with the necessities. I lived in a one room apartment with another person, and between us, the costs were just barely attainable. I had to get a part-time job, two, in fact, but on most days I still went hungry."

A quiet moment passed between us. I found something akin to pity and sympathy bubbling in my chest, but I knew that that would be the last thing she wanted at that moment. So, instead I said, "We all have some pit stones in our lives. What got you through yours?"

"Well, one day after dance lessons, my teacher came up to me and said that I had potential – enough to perform in the upcoming dance recital. I agreed, of course. And from then on, my career in the entertainment world had been rising. It's like waking up from sleep and finding yourself in a more elaborate dreamscape."

"Are there any influential people in your life?" I asked, sucking in my breath expectedly.

"Mostly the classical and modern artists; they are the ones I look up to when I feel like needing mentor-ship. Also, Sakura."

"Sakura?" I asked, halting my pen once more.

"Hmm." She nodded in conformance.

"Is she the one in most of these photographs?"

"Yes," Tomoyo replied, and seeing as to how I needed more information on the subject continued. "Sakura is my best friend –" surprisingly enough, I felt oddly relieved "– she is the one who pulls me through when I'm down, she's the one who adds colour to my monotonous days. I'd feel lost and useless if she was gone. Her strength and vivaciousness make me want to succeed more, and so I strive toward success."

A tense moment hung between us, interrupted by the scribbling of my pen. Tomoyo waited until I finished writing my sentence before standing up and exclaiming, "It's so late! You must forgive me, I took too much of your time. Now you'll probably not get any sleep and be all grouchy-like in the morning!"

I grinned inwardly; it seemed so like her to change a sombre mood into a light one. "You're right. I'll probably turn into Mr. Grinch during the night, and try to steal the dazzling heroine."

"Then you'd better get going, if the cold permits, and if not you'd be an icicle by the morrow, my guarantee," she said, grabbing my coat and showing me to the door.

"Then I'd better fo. Goodnight," I said to her, suddenly very unwilling to leave her side.

"G' night," Tomoyo echoed, head peeking out of the doorway, watching me leave. "I'll drop by your place one of these days. Maybe then we'll be able to finish the interview."

"Hopefully. Well, Goodnight, see you next time, Tomoyo." I felt like a broken record, a feat that was hitherto unknown to me. But this girl brought out the strangest things in me, made me feel things I thought I've long forgotten how to feel.

"Goodbye, Eriol."

I shivered as she said my name; coming from her, it sounded like a sensuous caress, almost. As I stepped outside, I let the evening air wash away the day's tension, cooling my senses along with it. She said some interesting things today, and I can't help but feel as if I had taken a ride on an intricate roller coaster. I feel as if she told me some great secret, or perhaps just a simple truth, about herself, me, people in general. The one question that pervaded my thoughts as I lay down in my bed that night was: Why does she have such an effect on me? And why do I like it?

(tbc)

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This chapter didn't have many funny scenes, but that's what I wanted, isn't it? The story will end when the interview is over.